


Tongues to the Flame

by seidrade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Thor (Marvel), Canon-Typical Violence, Crying, Hallucinogens, Initiation Rituals, Light Bondage, M/M, Magic Rituals, Magical Tattoos, Mild Blood, Needles, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Thor (2011), Ritual Drug Usage, Sibling Incest, Tattoo Ritual, Topping from the Bottom, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seidrade/pseuds/seidrade
Summary: A peculiar, sour look crossed Loki’s face before his expression smoothed. “It is now tradition for the initiate to celebrate his newfound strength before he leaves the next morning on his long journey. I imagine you will find no shortage of offers on this most auspicious of nights. I will take my leave, brother, and you may tell me who to summon to your side.”Thor didn’t think he was imagining the bitterness that laced Loki’s words.“Don’t go,” he said, still feeling as if he was floating in his own body. “Stay.”





	Tongues to the Flame

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Bottom Thor Day and originally posted on Tumblr. It has been slightly edited upon being posted to AO3, all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Indeterminate canon-based AU setting, sometime prior to Thor’s coronation. I’ve taken some rather large liberties with ancient tattooing practices and Old Norse sorcery / initiation ceremonies. Don’t try this at home, kids.

_Deeper, deeper_  
_Oh, dare we put our tongues to the flames?_  
_Deeper, deeper_  
_Oh, send the others away_

xx  


Thor lay still as he sensed Loki’s approach. His breathing was calm and even, more through force of will than actual peace of mind. He was not afraid, no… but a thrum of anticipation could be felt deep in his stomach, in the tautness at the base of his throat. His fingers longed to twitch and fidget. He did not let them.

Loki knelt, slowly and steadily, the stone mortar cupped in his long fingers. Thor’s gaze followed it down, catching a glimpse of the black liquid within, before it disappeared from his line of sight. 

“There are some small preparations yet to make,” Loki advised him, eyes clear and bright with an anticipation to mirror Thor’s own, though he too remained otherwise collected.

“Do as you will,” Thor acquiesced. He had no arguments to make— this was Loki’s domain. The furs he lay stretched out upon were comfortable and the fire was close enough to warm the hut, but not so close as to make him sweat. He was on his back, stripped to the waist, with only a simple loincloth in the manner of warriors past to clothe him. Loki said it was tradition and Thor generally trusted his expertise in these matters— sorcery was one of the few things Loki took seriously.

“I’ve already put the henbane seeds in the coals,” Loki spoke quietly, fussing over the low table laden with his implements and ingredients. “Don’t be alarmed if you feel as though you are floating. It is only the vapors taking effect.”

Thor smiled reassuringly at him. “Nothing you do here will alarm me, Loki. I’m only glad it is you doing the honors.”

Loki just smiled, then turned back to his preparations, clever hands mixing and stirring. Thor watched the curl of dark hair at his ear, cradling his jaw like a calligrapher’s flourish. 

He could hear Loki chanting softly under his breath as he stirred and plucked and gestured, the lilting feel of his galdr never failing to stir something in Thor’s chest. 

In times like these, he was reminded that Loki was far more than just his clever, smirking brother, using his wiles and his sorcery for amusements and to get them out of scrapes. These were rare glimpses into the raw, ancient power that Loki possessed; the esoteric knowledge he had traveled far and wide to obtain. In these moments, he seemed as deep and unfathomable to Thor as the dark ocean which pulled at the black shores of northernmost Midgard and whispered of dangerous, enticing secrets.

Still, Thor felt it safer to be tangled in Loki’s glowing skein of seiðr than the unforgiving knots of Ran’s net. He had met the lady of the ocean once and hoped never to repeat the experience. It had been Loki who had saved him then, appearing as a great leopard seal and pulling him back to the surface. It was only fitting that Loki should again guide Thor onward on his path.

His brother’s pleasant voice rose and filled his ears, a steady pitch and rhythm as he pronounced the foreign sounds with ease. As ever, Thor’s Allspeak attempted to translate for him, but even it was predated by the dead language Loki spoke. To try and understand it without decades of study was a fool’s errand. Thor felt himself lulled by the sound, found something entrancing in it. 

He was ready. He knew it with more certainty than he had ever known anything. (Thor could admit he asserted this quite often, but it was no less true for the frequency.)

Loki held a hand out to his face, a small mushroom resting delicately between his fingers, and Thor realized he was meant to eat it. He parted his lips and Loki placed the fungus on his tongue, guiding his jaw closed. Thor chewed, swallowed. It was bitter and not altogether pleasant, but these things rarely were. 

Loki’s eyes darted over his face, and though he did not smile— still gently chanting as he was— Thor could see in the warmth of his gaze that he was pleased. Thor had taken his medicine without complaint. Loki turned aside, then was back a moment later with a beautifully carved wooden spoon. Again, he indicated Thor should part his lips. This time, a warm trickle of spiced mead on his tongue. 

Unlike the mushroom, which had its own inherent properties that time would reveal, he could almost feel the enchantment upon the mead. Its honey lingered in his mouth, warmth spreading through him from head to toe. Loki’s eyes also lingered, watching him as carefully as if he were a small and helpless creature being nursed back to health, rather than the strapping warrior he’d become these last few centuries.

Thor gazed back in fondness, letting his eyes slide shut after a moment to better savor the feeling of the working taking hold of him. His every nerve and vein felt pleasantly heated, and he was grateful now for the loincloth affording him the ability to sweat comfortably.

A slow movement to his left, a trickle of liquid, and Thor turned his head to see Loki wringing a cloth into a basin. He brought the warm rag to Thor’s chest, smelling of goat’s milk soap and fragrant herbs. He began methodically cleansing Thor’s skin, scrubbing in little circles and chanting under his breath once more, sprinkling more water on Thor’s skin with his other hand, before he abruptly stopped. 

Thor felt his skin awakening, felt something stirring in the close air of the hut. A gentle, balmy breeze; unexpected and unexplained. He felt suddenly exposed. Loki’s keen, glittering eyes watched him like a hawk as he resumed his motions. He bathed Thor’s shoulders and upper arms, then his rib cage and stomach. All in silence, save for the crackling of the fire and the gentle sounds of water being wrung from the cloth. Thor fought to keep his breathing even, willed his body to remain unstirred and unresponsive. Now was not the time for that ever-pressing, ever-inconvenient issue.

Loki gave his chest one more pass, then set the cloth and basin aside. He whispered a word and with a delicate movement of his fingers, Thor’s torso was dry once again. Thor saw him reaching for a glass vial. His galdr chant resumed, slower now. It sounded more as if he was naming ingredients, perhaps invoking their power, as he poured oil into his cupped palm. Thor just barely kept himself from making any distracting noises as Loki poured the oil from his palm to Thor’s chest. The oil was warmed, though when he rubbed it in with his bare hands, they felt cool against Thor’s heated skin. 

All was almost lost when Loki’s fingers briefly smoothed over Thor’s nipples on his way down his chest, but Thor managed to contain himself. This would be more of a test than he’d realized, especially with that taste of enchanted mead stirring his body and senses. 

Loki spread a thin coat of oil down his rib cage, thankfully didn’t linger overlong after he’d rubbed it into Thor’s stomach. Thor didn’t know how much torment of that kind he could take. Give him something to hit on the battlefield any day over this far more insidious challenge against his own mind and body.

Finally, Loki took a taper that had been burning at his side— a tall pillar of golden wax— and held it out over the center of Thor’s chest. He intoned a few words, slowly, quietly, then let the candle drip like warmed honey onto Thor’s skin. His movements were telegraphed enough that Thor was able to contain himself, inhaling sharply through his nose as the wax hit his skin. He had expected it to sting, perhaps, but all he felt was pleasure at the strange sensation, and closed his eyes as Loki continued to carefully drip the wax in a line down his center, down to his abdomen, then across his chest and around in a circle.

Thor realized after a few more moments that Loki was in fact drawing a stave. He foolishly hoped it would provide protection against one’s own arousal, for that was undeniably what this ritual was doing to him. He wondered if it caused other men arousal; if everyone reacted in this way. It surely didn’t help, his being disadvantaged to begin with. He could feel his cock stirring and tried to think of the least enticing, most miserable things he could. Anything but his brother.

Loki finally put the candle aside and Thor glanced over to see him taking a drink from a chalice— he was unsure if this was simply to wet his throat or part of the ritual. Thor risked a glance down, only to see that the wax had coalesced into perfect straight lines upon his torso, no stray droplets in sight. It appeared from here to be the Ægishjálmr, as he’d half-expected. The protection of his father, and his father’s fathers. It was tradition for the seiðkona— or seiðmaðr, in this case— to choose what symbol of protection would be bestowed. Sometimes it was merely a rune or a phrase. Loki had been mum on the subject, only told him that he would like it. And he did.

Loki held out both hands and murmured a word, and Thor watched in awe as the golden wax stave lifted as one from his body, leaving behind rosy heated lines on his oiled skin. The wax hovered in the air for a moment, then began to glow white. Loki spoke again, and it disintegrated in a shimmer of gold— that of Loki’s magic— leaving only its shadow on Thor’s body as evidence it had ever been.

Thor was distracted from his bodily urges, could only marvel at Loki’s abilities, strangely touched. He was suddenly, intensely glad it was Loki doing this for him. He could not imagine it being anyone else; surely there was no other who could treat him with such care. Who he trusted to see him at his most vulnerable. Tears threatened to prick at his eyes and he closed them for a minute, collecting himself. When he opened them, Loki was watching him once more.

“Are you ready, Thor, Son of Odin?” He asked quietly. “It is time to begin the recitation.”

Thor nodded, holding his gaze. “I, Thor, Son of Odin, am ready,” he recited, the beginning of the lines Loki had taught him. “I am prepared for my initiation. I am ready to serve my king and my realm. I am ready to prove my worth. I give myself in body and spirit to Yggdrasil and sacrifice myself unto myself as my father before me.”

“Then let us commence,” Loki nodded slowly, not looking away. “Nine tasks over nine years will be yours to pursue across the nine realms. I confer upon you the protection of your homeland, the Golden Realm of Asgard. Of your sire and king, Odin Allfather, son of Bor. Of your mother and queen, Frigga, daughter of Vanaheim. Of your station, Crown Prince and Heir to the Golden Throne of Hliðskjálf. Of your friends and those who love you. Of your warriors and those who fight for you. Of your subjects and those who serve you. Of your mount and that which bears you. Of your hammer and that which defends you. Of your seiðmaster and he who guides you. Of— of your brother and he who adores you.”

Thor was glad to be watching so closely, for to see Loki stumble over his words was rare indeed, and for him to profess his love for Thor in more than a joking aside was ever a momentous occasion.

“Guide me onward and I will follow.” He replied, voice feeling rough and deep in his chest.

Loki’s eyes shone, this time with golden light as he held his hands out over Thor’s torso. “Norns, grant me the power to bind these protections. I invoke thee, Urðr, Skuld and Verðandi. Reveal to me the threads that I may weave.”

Thor watched, rapt, as a brightly shining golden web seemed to lift from his body, hovering above him not unlike what he had seen within Eir’s soul forge. But this was different. This, Thor knew, was his spá made manifest by Loki’s power. He couldn’t imagine trusting anyone else with such delicate and dangerous work, save his mother, who had taught Loki well. Even if Loki wasn’t there to alter his fate, per se, tampering with the spá was by necessity an undertaking of great skill and precision.

The golden light dissipated somewhat, glowing softly now, and Thor could make out the many red gold strands at the center, woven into complicated and beautiful knotwork which remained open at either end. It was the source from which all other threads seemed to branch out, interweaving with its pattern. Shimmering pearls and soft peaches and autumn rust, myriad other threads of lives that intertwined with his own. He spied a bold, bronze thread that was surely Odin, a periwinkle blue that had to be Frigga. And one that bore Loki’s favorite green, shining bright and verdant— woven far more strongly into the pattern of his spá than than any other.

Thor felt something seize in his chest, understanding suddenly that this was not just the weave of his life and fate, not just the little piece of Yggdrasil designated as his— it was his very heart being laid open for all to see. He was again grateful that Loki was the only one there to see, and abashed at the same time.

Thor was not ashamed of the depth of his feelings… he’d had long enough to come to terms with them. He merely regretted his own weakness, that he could not seem to control himself as he should. The many tasks and initiations ahead scared Thor not— for the past many centuries had already seen him face daily the most challenging task of all. As he would surely have to, now and for the rest of his life.

He feared Loki already knew— or else would be able to read it in his spá, unwittingly spilling his secrets in a language he could not hope to understand.

Tears pricked at Thor’s eyes once more as he watched the glowing weave above him, and marveled that he could be thought worthy of anything. He blinked to clear the wetness away. 

Thankfully, Loki didn’t seem to find anything amiss, though when Thor thought to look, he did appear a bit flushed in the dim glow. As Thor watched, his eyes again began to burn golden— not unlike Heimdall’s, Thor realized— as he seemed to draw something from his own chest. It was soon revealed to be a shimmering emerald thread that perfectly matched the hue of the one already woven into Thor’s. He held it aloft, up alongside Thor’s spá. His voice echoed with something otherworldly and not his own, whispers of deep female voices.

“Norns, work your will through me. Let these bindings hold fast through great trial and suffering. Let these bindings hold fast through pain and horror. Let these bindings hold fast in battle and in peacetime. Let these bindings hold fast in love and in gladness. Norns, work your will through me.”

Loki seemed to wait then, hands outstretched, burning eyes fixed on a faraway point above them where Thor could see nothing. He felt that strange, warm breeze once more and a chill fell over him. He felt suddenly lightheaded, and wondered which of the several intoxicants was taking its effect. 

Loki lowered his hands then, and the emerald thread remained aloft. A few small gestures of his graceful fingers and the thread began to weave itself into the red gold knotwork, mirroring its twin green strand on the other side. 

Thor felt something stir within him, realized his heart was racing. He felt a new kind of warmth spreading through him, though he could not have said where it first began. A tingling rush down to his toes, like a fire that licked at his flesh without burning. It was both comforting and deeply arousing, and Thor slowly squeezed his hands into fists to try and contain himself. He thought he saw a few blue sparks at the corner of his vision, but when he looked, there was nothing there.

Loki was still directing the weave of his spá, focused intently on his task, and thankfully did not look down as Thor’s cock stirred and his chest flushed. 

Thor took a long, slow breath through his mouth, exhaling as silently as he could through his nose. Trying to calm himself without distracting Loki. After another few tense moments, he could feel his body settling once more, and he relaxed his hands from their fists. 

After several more minutes, Loki finally seemed satisfied, a small grin gracing the corners of his mouth as he surveyed his handiwork. 

“Mighty Norns, look upon these bindings with favor. Look upon Thor of Asgard, Son of Odin, and see that he is pure of heart and worthy of the power of Mjolnir. Let these bindings steady his feet, let them guide his tongue, let them strengthen his mind. So sayeth Loki, Son of Odin— your faithful supplicant.”

Loki brought his hands together in a series of complicated gestures, and when he spread them apart, the skein of soul threads slowly sank, gently, until they merged with Thor’s body once more. It tingled for a moment, as before, and then they were once more alone— Thor only now realized how much it had felt they were in the presence of another being. _Beings._

Loki’s eyes returned to their normal hue, and he slowly lowered his hands to his lap, looking down at Thor with quiet fondness and something else Thor thought might be protectiveness. Or perhaps pride.

“Are you ready, Thor, Son of Odin?” Loki asked. “Would you know more?”

“Aye,” Thor replied, dutifully, his heart swelling. “I would yet know more.”

Loki nodded, then stood, shedding the outer layers of his robes. Thor’s eyes trailed down his body, wondering what would come next. They had not discussed all the particulars, only Thor’s replies to Loki’s prompts. The warrior undergoing initiation was not supposed to make extra preparations— he’d had his entire life for that.

Loki undressed until he stood only in his soft breeches, folding his clothes with care and setting them to the side. He tied back his hair with a thong of golden leather, then resumed his kneeling position at Thor’s side.

Thor said nothing, watched rapt as Loki prepared a long instrument made of entwined ivory and gold. It looked almost like a writing quill, but Thor recognized its shape—knew that was no regular nib on the business end. Loki wrapped its handle with another golden strip of leather. He used his other hand to drip oil upon Thor’s skin once more, and then smoothed it into his skin before reaching for a small chamois. Thor watched in anticipation as Loki dipped his strange instrument into the pestle of black liquid from earlier, then held it aloft.

“Yggdrasil, grant me the power to pierce the skin of the Odinson and imbue him with your spirit.” That was all Thor understood before Loki began to chant in galdralag once more, and his instrument began to glow with green light. He lowered it to the center of Thor’s chest, to the center of the reddened Ægishjálmr right over his solar plexus. In his distraction, Thor had forgotten all about it.

“Now we begin,” Loki said, pausing his galdr for a moment, locking eyes with Thor for a few heated seconds before turning his attention downward. 

Thor felt the needle pierce his skin, once, and then many, many times, as Loki followed the pattern the hot wax had left on his skin. The rhythm of the needle aligned with Loki’s soft chanting, and Thor soon found himself grounded by the little pricks of pain. It was strangely soothing, and he could now begin to feel the effects of the mushroom, making him feel weightless. Every sensation felt heightened, but the pain was good. Cleansing. Making him stronger.

He could feel Loki’s strong, capable hands on his skin, stretching and manipulating his flesh to better administer the ink, the vibration of his hands moving through Thor’s body. The vibration of the words of power he repeated spreading through the air and nestling in Thor’s mind.

Without thinking, Thor brought a hand up to rest on Loki’s thigh, seeking to be closer, to complete the connection. He realized belatedly that was exactly what he was meant to be putting a stop to, his constant desire to touch, but it was too late to withdraw it. And besides, he did not want to, his woozy mind argued. What was the harm? He could not seem to remember.

Loki glanced over at him with a little quirk of his mouth, but he did not stop reciting, nor did he pause in his work. Thor felt his eyes slide shut, strangely peaceful, floating on air, everything behind his eyelids made of hazy light and soft colors. For an initiation ritual, this wasn’t half bad. He knew there would be trying tasks to follow, but for now, he would relax and soak up everything he could. He never wanted to forget this moment with his beautiful brother, who took such good care of him, yes...

Thor couldn’t have said how much time had passed— perhaps hours, perhaps days— before Loki finally rose from his task and fell silent. His eyes slid open and he could see the strain in Loki’s sweet face. How it had drained him to channel so much power, and all for Thor. He would thank Loki greatly for it, for such an honor, but knew now was not the time. Loki would never forgive him for disrupting the ritual he had worked so hard to complete.

Loki arose, then came to stand astride over Thor’s prone body. Thor stared up at him in awe and not a little confusion. Loki lowered himself until he knelt with legs on either side of Thor’s waist, and where their bodies touched, Thor’s skin flamed and a sharp inhale escaped him. Loki caught his gaze, intently as ever. He held up his two hands, covered in black ink, and made a series of gestures that seemed to leave light trails behind in Thor’s vision. He then brought his palms down on Thor’s newly-tattooed chest, the skin raw and still gently weeping with droplets of blood.

“I call on thee Allfather, on Yggdrasil, on Urðr, Skuld and Verðandi,” Loki whispered urgently. “Protect now the son of Odin. The son of Asgard. Enter through these portals I have made upon his flesh. Enter and claim him for your own.” 

All of a sudden, Loki was sitting up. A black obsidian dagger shone wicked in his hand. 

Thor’s breath caught in his throat as Loki locked eyes with him. The next thing he knew, Loki had plunged the blade deep into the center of the fresh stave on Thor’s chest, slicing bone and sinew as it went. Loki cried out, voice echoing, “We sacrifice Thor unto Thor!” 

A bright light and a sudden wind filled the room. Thor’s chest felt tight, searing hot, and suddenly his vision went black and he was wracked with a pain so immense that he gave a guttural scream, suddenly far too big for his body, like he was falling to pieces and bursting apart at the seams, like he was—

Thor suddenly snapped back to, chest heaving. He felt different, he registered immediately, mind and body on high alert. He was no longer in pain. He felt lightheaded and hot everywhere, but it was deep in his core, as if some secret forge had just started pumping the bellows and every heat he knew before was merely a shade of this. For a panicked moment he thought his vision had gone but no; as his eyes began to adjust, he could just barely make out moonlight coming in through the flap over the door. The fire had merely gone out, leaving them in darkness. He could feel Loki astride him, his hands still on Thor’s chest. He could feel his own hands, gripping the furs tightly at his side. 

“It is almost complete,” Loki spoke softly. His hands lifted from Thor’s chest, and suddenly there was light again— the fire rekindled.

Thor gazed up at Loki and saw that his hands were clean of ink, pale once more. The black dagger was gone, and there was no sign of a wound. Without moving from his position, Loki turned his hands upward, cupping them, and suddenly one was filled with herbs of some sort. He moved the other to Thor’s chest and Thor realized his palm had filled with oil, which he was now spreading across Thor’s raw skin. It ached now, and he managed to keep from hissing, but the oil began to feel soothing after a moment. 

He watched Loki place sprigs of herbs at precise points of the stave, then with a flick of his fingers, the herbs ignited and smoldered, their smoke fragrant and earthy. They did not burn Thor’s skin, being alight not with fire but with Loki’s sorcery. Loki watched him as they burned down, but Thor could not read his face. 

Finally, he waved a hand and the herbs softened into ash. He summoned more oil and poured it heavily over Thor’s skin, mixing the ash and the golden liquid, then muttered a few more words Thor couldn’t understand. At once, his chest stopped stinging, and when he looked down, he saw that all that remained were the tattooed marks of the Ægishjálmr, fully healed. 

Loki soothed oil over his skin once more, a lighter coat this time, just enough to make his handiwork gleam. Thor felt hypersensitive, the henbane and the mushroom and the mead still mingling in his system, and Loki’s touch once more invoked pleasure in him. It washed over him like a wave of warmth and he couldn’t help his nostrils flaring as his cock stirred once more— though Loki was looking intently at his chest, and thankfully did not notice. 

“You have passed the first stage of your initiation, Thor, Son of Odin,” Loki intoned, looking back up at him and sitting up higher on his knees, resting his hands on his own thighs. “You are ready to complete your nine tasks. The seiðr ritual is complete. The Norns are satisfied with your sacrifice. You have done well. I— I am proud of you.”

Thor felt his heart swell— but not for his own achievement. In his mind, he had done nothing commendable whatsoever. It was Loki who had done all the hard work. Loki who had done this for him. 

Before he could say anything, a peculiar, sour look crossed Loki’s face before his expression smoothed. “It is now tradition for the initiate to celebrate his newfound strength before he leaves the next morning on his long journey. I imagine you will find no shortage of offers on this most auspicious of nights. I will take my leave, brother, and you may tell me who to summon to your side.”

Thor didn’t think he was imagining the bitterness that laced Loki’s words.

Loki went to rise but Thor’s hand shot out to stop him, landing on Loki’s thigh seemingly of its own accord. Loki’s eyes flicked downward, then back up, and he seemed confused. “What is it?”

“Don’t go,” Thor said, still feeling as if he was floating in his own body. “Stay.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, but then he nodded. “Yes, you do seem a bit disoriented… don’t worry, I’ll remain a bit longer until you are ready.” He squeezed Thor’s hand and gave him a small, encouraging grin that didn’t reach his eyes, before quickly glancing away. “Let me get you some water.” 

But Thor just dug in harder when he went to rise. “No, Loki. Stay.” He said, and he didn’t know what emboldened him so, but he suddenly knew that Loki shouldn’t be the one to leave. Shouldn’t have to send someone else into Thor’s tent, to celebrate without him what had just been achieved. It seemed utterly wrong. 

Loki’s froze. His eyes darted over Thor’s face as he seemed to subconsciously wet his lips. “What do you mean?” There was a wary glimmer of hope in his expression.

Thor knew then that he could not possibly go the next nine years without seeing that beautiful face. He felt a surge of confidence. He knew what needed to be done, and his journey began tomorrow— it was now or never. 

Thor sat up slowly, still holding onto Loki’s thigh. His brother blinked in confusion before settling instinctively back into Thor’s lap, the only place left for him to go.

Thor watched intently as Loki’s eyes widened; he reveled in the sound as Loki’s breath hitched. Thor felt Loki’s weight, knew his brother could feel the length of his cock, hard and thick beneath him. 

“Thor—“ Loki started, then stopped, unsure. “Are you still high?”

“Just a little,” Thor admitted with a hit of a grin, before he schooled his face into seriousness. “I meant what I said— don’t go. This is your victory as much as mine. This is your mark forever upon my chest.” He took one of Loki’s hands and pressed it against the center of the stave. “Don’t make me celebrate with another.”

Loki swallowed audibly. A tension in his jaw. His voice was hollow in reply. “You don’t… surely you don’t mean that.”

A spectre of doubt crossed Thor’s mind— maybe this wasn’t the time to speak what had long gone unspoken, maybe he had gotten it all wrong, foolishly believing that Loki might also want— but then he saw how Loki lingered, how his fingers flattened against his chest, not pulling away. There was no disgust or anger or even surprise anymore— just disbelief, just Loki staring down at their hands, scarcely breathing.

No, he wasn’t wrong. Not about this. 

“My brother who adores me,” Thor breathed for him. “Isn’t that what you said? I don’t remember that being part of the script.”

Loki laughed, a little higher-pitched than normal, and he only could meet Thor’s eyes for a brief moment. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Loki,” Thor chided fondly, sliding his hand up to Loki’s hip. Admiring the way the firelight teased over his bare skin— something Thor hadn’t had occasion to witness in some time. He adjusted his legs into a more comfortable position, pulling his knees up and out, just enough to let Loki’s ass settle into the cradle of his thighs, Loki’s legs bracketing his hips in turn. He slipped his arms around Loki’s waist and tilted his head to look at him, enjoying the way Loki instinctively clutched at him for balance. 

“You really thought I wouldn’t notice? After you spent so long drilling those lines into my thick skull?” He couldn’t so readily feel Loki’s weight on his cock this way, but perhaps it was better to start slow.

Loki seemed torn between tentative desire and wariness. “You never pay attention.”

Thor licked his lips, looking down at Loki’s mouth. “Stay with me and see how much attention I pay you.” He met Loki’s eyes once more. “Or are you afraid?”

“Never,” Loki replied vehemently, an automatic response— which seemed to surprise him for a moment. And then he smiled, as if to himself, canines gleaming in the low light. Thor’s stomach did a flip.

A sudden current passed between them and then, before Thor could initiate anything more, Loki was already kissing him ravenously, pressing in against him. Thor quickly caught up, tightening his hands around Loki and tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of Loki’s neck, pulling it free from its tie— their lips and tongues slipping together with increasing urgency.

Thor drew Loki harder against him, but it wasn’t enough. He pulled them back down to the furs, rolled until Loki was underneath him and he could slide a thigh between Loki’s legs, relishing the feel of their bare chests pressing together, his oiled skin heightening the sensation. Loki whined against his mouth, rocking his hips up and letting Thor feel his undeniable hardness. 

They groped at each other, Loki’s hand sneaking down to grip Thor by the ass, fingers sneaking beneath the loincloth to clutch at his flesh. Thor groaned into his mouth, grinding his cock against Loki’s thigh. He still swore he was floating, tethered to this plane only by his brother’s body against his. He pulled back to gulp air, panting hard as arousal hummed throughout him, down to his fingertips where they cradled Loki’s jaw and kneaded his hip.

Loki was staring up at him, pale cheeks flushed and his hair already mussed into wild waves. 

“I’ll be damned,” he murmured, lips wet and on their way to swollen. “I didn’t see that happening for at least another few decades.”

Thor growled and leaned in to mouth at his jaw, nuzzling his nose under Loki’s ear. “Do you know how hard it was to not react while you were coating me with oil and dripping wax on me? Loincloths are not forgiving, Loki. I’m suspicious of your motives in having me wear it.” 

“It’s tradition!” Loki laughed, breathily. It was a good sound. Thor nipped at his neck and he squeaked. “Alright, I may have been playing with fire. Metaphorical and literal,” he admitted. “But we’ve never spoken of such things… I didn’t really think anything would come of it.”

“I’ll make you come of it,” Thor pulled back, deadly serious despite his jokes. Lust flared in his brother’s face, dark pupils swallowing the beautiful green of his irises. 

“Will you now,” he taunted quietly, clearly equal parts turned on and amused. “Only I’m sure someone somewhere will begin to wonder why I haven’t yet emerged.”

“Send a double,” Thor urged, admiring the flush on Loki’s chest before sliding down so he could tongue at one of Loki’s nipples. That earned him a hiss as Loki’s hands flew up to thread through his hair. “Have him look far and wide for a beautiful maiden,” he murmured against the stiffened bud, laving it with the flat of his tongue once more. “I’m sure he’ll have difficulty finding any that could satisfy me now that I’ve looked upon you.”

“Bor’s blood, is that how you speak to all your bed mates.” Loki’s disdainful tone was ruined somewhat by the gasp at the end of his sentence, possibly due to Thor scraping his teeth along his nipple. “Okay, okay! I’ll do it. And perhaps I’ll muffle the sound while I’m at it.” He paused. “But Thor, you’re not seriously thinking of—“

“Yes,” Thor interrupted, rising up and framing Loki with his arms. “Yes, a thousand times yes. I don’t want to wait any longer.” An idea occurred to him— a long-held fantasy that was so much a part of him it felt strange to speak aloud. 

“I want you to take me. Here, on these furs.”

Now Loki was truly thrown. “You’re not serious,” he protested again, propping himself up on his elbows, his chest still beautifully rosy.

Thor gave an easy shrug, trying to downplay his eagerness. “I’m sorry to say you won’t be the first, but it has been many years and I cannot think of another way I would rather spend this night. Will you?”

Loki gave a little tilt of his chin, eyeing him keenly. “After all the trouble I just went to, you would have me unman you?” Thor almost made to protest, but then he saw the little preening curl of Loki’s lip. “Ah, brother, I thought you would never ask.”

A thrill ran through Thor, flooding him with no small amount of arousal. He sat back on his heels and palmed himself through the loincloth— which was doing very little to disguise anything at this point. Loki’s nostrils flared as his chest rose and fell that much higher.

“How would you have me?” Thor asked.

Loki licked his lips. “Just like this,” he murmured. “On top of me, where I can look at you. And then we’ll see.”

His outline blurred green, and then Loki’s fully-clothed double arose and stood, looking down at Thor with a dangerous grin that only made Thor press his hand harder against his cock, imagining not for the first time what he could do with two of Loki. The double winked, then strode purposefully from the hut. Thor watched him go, appreciative of the view, only to have the real Loki swat his arm.

“What?” He replied, glancing back down to his adorably jealous brother. “He is you, after all.”

Loki just eye-rolled with a familiar, exasperated fondness. He wiggled his hips to remind Thor of the task at hand. “Where were we? Weren’t you about to strip for me?”

Thor couldn’t help but grin as he reached for the knot at his hip, forgetting the new marks upon his chest until he looked down and was nearly startled by them. “This will take some getting used to,” he laughed, touching his chest briefly. “But I am proud and glad to bear it.”

“It suits you,” Loki said, sincerely, and Thor held his gaze as he undid the knot in the leather, casting the loincloth aside. Loki’s eyes drifted downward after a moment, oh so very nonchalant, and Thor took himself in hand, to better display his wares. They had seen each other naked plenty of times before— the memories were still burned into Thor’s mind— but never like this.

“Will I do?” He asked, enjoying the way Loki’s bare chest rose and fell just a little faster at the sight of him.

“Very nicely,” Loki murmured, summoning oil into his palm and sitting up just enough to bat Thor’s hand away, replacing it with his own. Thor inhaled sharply, unable to help a small groan as Loki’s hand wrapped around him with a sure grip, slick fingers teasing up and down the shaft, not quite making it to the head. 

“Let me see you,” Thor tried to request, though it came across more as a demand. “Let me undress you all the way.”

Loki just smirked at him, running a thumb over the crown of his cock, making Thor’s hips jerk forward. “More’s the pity, I’ve already taken care of it.”

Thor looked down then, realized that Loki was indeed no longer wearing his tight breeches. Was in fact naked beneath him, and as he sank down lower, he felt Loki shift and bring a knee up, so that Loki’s cock nudged against his flesh more readily.

Thor felt another shiver run through him at the long-desired feel of Loki’s prick coming to rest between his buttocks, though he couldn’t get enough pressure like this. He reached around behind him to stroke Loki, relishing the thickness of him, watching his brother’s face all the while.

The dark, glazed look in Loki’s eye was mesmerizing— as were his brother’s lips, wet and gently parted. His chest, pink, and his nipples pinker still. Thor could feel Loki’s hips twitching as his cock responded, and still he stroked Thor’s shaft with a slow, teasing grip. Thor lowered himself until he was all but seated on Loki’s hips, the better to feel more of him. Loki was ever cool of skin, but he warmed beautifully to Thor’s touch.

“You look so damned good,” Loki murmured, sounding almost agonized. “I can’t wait to see you split on my cock.”

Thor’s thighs clenched and he rocked his hips forward into Loki’s grip. Norns, the things Loki’s voice did to him. “Why wait?” He replied, trying for teasing, even as he felt lightheaded with desire. “Give me oil and I will do as you ask.”

Loki summoned over the vial and uncorked it, letting Thor coat his fingers. Some he spread over Loki’s cock, enjoying the expressions of pleasure that flit across his brother’s face. Then, with slicked fingers and a deep breath to relax himself, Thor pressed one of his fingers over his own entrance, beginning to tease and play with the tight muscle.

Loki watched him, rapt. 

“I have long imagined watching you do this,” he nearly whispered, voice hoarse with lust. “Never did I think it would happen. Mm, I can’t decide if I want only to watch or to partake myself.”

Thor gave him a cocky grin, eyes falling shut for a moment as he slipped the first finger inside himself. He was out of practice but it came back to him quickly enough, how to coax his muscles into pliant submission. He groaned, as much for Loki’s benefit as his own, and Loki answered him with a deep moan in his chest. 

“Yes, Thor… get yourself ready for me. Gods, I bet you’ll be so tight.” Loki was working his cock more steadily now, and between that and his words, shivers spread anew over Thor’s skin. He gazed down at the finely-muscled body beneath him, so firm and invitingly soft all at once. At Loki’s parted lips, his tongue darting up to wet them further. Thor couldn’t resist leaning forward, pulling his oiled hand free for a moment so he could swoop in and kiss Loki open mouthed and louche.

Loki’s hands instantly sprang up to grab at his hips, and then one hand was curling around behind, seeking Thor’s rim. His long fingers were cool and slick. He slid the first of them inside Thor and they groaned into each other’s mouths. One finger soon became two, and then Thor was reduced to helplessly grunting, gasping against Loki’s mouth as he was worked open by their steady thrusts.

He could feel Loki’s grin as he drove them especially deep, and Thor gave a choked moan as Loki’s fingertip brushed a place inside him that had long gone neglected.

“Oh yes,” Loki murmured. “You will do very nicely indeed.” 

Thor made himself sit up just a little; just enough to see Loki’s triumphant, lusty face in full focus. Loki twisted his fingers, seeming to greedily drink up Thor’s every reaction, which in turn caused Thor to just as greedily savor his.

“Loki,” Thor said, and was taken aback by how deep and desperate he sounded. Yes, he could withstand any number of trials, any great pain and suffering, but to be made to wait any longer for Loki’s cock seemed a truly unimaginable torment.

“Yes, Thor, I’m not going anywhere,” Loki reassured him, slowly slipping his fingers free so that Thor ached for the loss. “Do you wish for me to fill you up?”

Thor was unbearably aroused, felt a bead of precome running down his cock. “Yes,” he urged, rising back up on his knees, stroking himself in a bid to appetize Loki further. “Yes, now.”

“Are you sure?” Loki began to tease, a familiar lilt to his husky voice. “You really want me to fuck you, brother mine?”

Thor gave a helpless moan, squeezing the base of his cock hard. “Loki, do not tease.”

“I just want to be sure,” Loki said, sly as ever. “I want to know just how badly you want my cock inside you. Perhaps you should beg for it.”

Thor felt a flare of sudden shame and anger in his breast, but it was inextricably tangled with lust and so much need that it nearly choked him. Loki watched him, eager, knowing exactly what he was doing to him, and oh, Thor loved and hated him for it.

“An Odinson does not beg,” he managed, but then Loki was guiding his cool, slick cock between Thor’s buttocks, just barely catching the head on Thor’s rim before pulling away.

“What was that?” Loki smiled, infuriatingly. “The mighty Thor will lower himself to be fucked by his brother, yet he is too proud to ask nicely for his cock? What a pity… I was so looking forward to sticking it in your beautiful, tight ass and making you moan my praises.”

“Loki,” Thor growled, for that was better than the whine that was trying to emerge. Seeing this side of Loki was doing terrible things to his self control. He tried to rock his ass back against Loki’s cock, only succeeding in brushing against Loki’s knuckles.

“Beg,” Loki whispered, letting his hand mold to the curve of Thor’s ass. Letting his fingers trail down to the sensitive skin around Thor’s entrance, pulling away as soon as Thor rocked back against him. “Tell me how much you want it. Let me see how truly desperate you are.”

There was a subtle waver, a sudden vulnerability in his voice, and Thor felt a fool when he realized Loki asked as much for his own sake as anything else. He needed the reassurance. So Thor stuffed down his pride, biting the inside of his lip. 

“Please, Loki…” he began, trying again to rock back into Loki’s touch. “I want you in me. I want to feel every inch of you.”

“Will you moan sweetly for me?” Loki asked, urgently, as he slid his cock along Thor’s cleft once more. Thor nodded, lips parting. 

“Yes,” he breathed. “That and more.”

“What more,” Loki’s eyes were nearly black with lust. “Tell me. Will you say my name as you ride me? If I give you my cock, will you scream and shout and curse?”

“Yes, Loki,” Thor found his voice breaking, his cock so unbearably rock hard and dripping freely now. “Please, yes, I will do it all and ask for more, I would have you ruin me for all others.”

The ravenous look in Loki’s blown-dark eyes was breathtaking. He lined up his cock at Thor’s rim, still keeping his hand in place to keep Thor from mounting him. Thor groaned in frustration, feeling agonized tears begin to prick at the corner of his eyes.

“Yes,” Loki soothed and baited. “Will you cry out for me, Thor? Will you beg me so desperately that I cannot resist?”

“Please,” Thor begged, and he felt a tear threaten to spill, though he was now so aroused that he could not muster any shame for it, and in the back of his addled mind was all the more enthralled that Loki should play him so well. This was far more than he’d bargained for. “Please let me sit on your cock, brother. Fuck me, please, Loki. I want you so badly.”

Loki gave him a vicious look of triumph as he moved his hand just a little and let the head of his cock press against Thor’s hole. Thor tried to rock down onto him but found that he was unable to move, realized that a green snaking glow was wrapping around him, holding him fast.

“Yes, you want, Thor. But do you need?” Loki had pulled one arm up to rest his head upon, and he looked at Thor appraisingly. The head of his cock just barely breached Thor’s ass before slipping away, and Thor groaned in frustration, a tear sliding down his cheek. 

“Loki… I beg of you. Let me have you. Fuck me however you wish, bend me to your will. You torment me so,” he broke off, panting as he strained against his magical bonds, arousal only growing as he struggled. “Gods, I need you so badly,” he all but whined. “Don’t leave me like this, I can’t— I can’t.”

“Shh,” Loki soothed, sitting up enough to run his hand over Thor’s thigh. “Don’t worry brother, I will give you what you need this night. I will make and unmake you for as long as you can bear it.”

His eyes shone with emotions Thor hadn’t the presence of mind to decode but he looked pleased and so full of lust that Thor inhaled deeply at the sight of his face coming near.

Thor felt Loki’s cock press just inside again, but this time Loki didn’t pull away.Thor cried out as he was breached, smooth and swift so that the stretch turned swiftly into pleasure. 

The burn tingled down his thighs and up his lower back, making the muscles around his spine clench, and he tightened purposefully around Loki’s cock, panting wildly. He still couldn’t move outwardly thanks to Loki’s bonds, could only groan in helpless lust as Loki held onto his thighs and thrust up into him with no small amount of force.

They had only just begun and Thor was already falling to pieces. Loki had him completely in his thrall, fucking him just enough to turn him boneless but not enough to let him get anywhere close to completion. Thor never wanted it to end.

Finally, when Thor was again close to tears, Loki released his bonds, and Thor slid down hard onto his cock with the force of gravity once more upon him. He groaned deep in his chest, and Loki wasted no time smacking his thigh. “Come on Odinson. Show me what you’re made of.”

Thor grit his teeth and began to ride, grinding his ass down against Loki’s hips before finding his rhythm, impaling himself again and again, a slow burn beginning in his thighs. A litany of curses spilled from his lips as Loki met him in time, deepening their union. Thor felt near ready to fall apart, and when Loki raised and spread his knees to adjust the angle, bringing his cock in line with Thor’s most sensitive spot, he all but sobbed. 

“Yes, look at you riding me, Thor. You’re so beautiful like this, taking my cock like you were made for it,” Loki growled and Thor was overcome at the praise. 

“Loki,” he managed, in a voice now wrecked from lust and desperation. “Loki, please.”

“Shall I make you scream until you forget your own name? Shall I make those tears fall down those handsome cheeks?”

“Yes, please… Loki…” Thor was nearly out of his mind, each thrust hitting him in that agonizing place. He instinctively squirmed to get away but Loki wasn’t having it, hands clutching him with force.

Then Thor blinked and inexplicably, when the sudden golden shimmer cleared from his gaze, he was once again on his back amongst the furs— back where he’d begun this evening’s adventure. This time, however, his legs were bent up toward his chest and Loki was atop him, driving so deep into him Thor could barely breathe.

“Give into it, Thor,” Loki’s rough voice urged. “Let me see you fall apart. Let me feel you from the inside. I want you to come on my cock.”

Thor grit his teeth, agonized sounds escaping him. Overwhelmed by the almost unbearable pleasure wracking his nerves, the heated tension in his loins mounting, his balls heavy and taut and full. Loki rutted against him, hot and sticky, gripping Thor’s waist hard enough to bruise. His dark hair hung curled and damp about his face as he bared his teeth with the effort, cheeks pink and jaw thrust forward as he panted. He looked so terribly beautiful and Thor was overcome with the desperate urge to be closer— impossibly so.

“Loki,” he tried to say, voice wavering with the force of Loki’s fucking. “I need— agh, I need—“

“You’re mine!” Loki snarled. “Say it, Thor. Say it!”

“Yes,” Thor groaned, brokenly, as he felt his pleasure reach boiling point. “Yours. All yours, yes.” 

Loki stared into Thor with such intensity, such naked desire, that when he growled, “Brother,” the force of his unspoken command swept Thor up and over the edge. 

He gave a strangled shout, coming hard enough to put stars in his vision. His untouched cock jerked, painting their sweating stomachs with thick, hot arcs of cum. Thor groaned long and low as he rode it out, until the lingering pull of it stole his breath from him.

Loki ground his hips hard against him with a sharp cry, his eyes wild, and then he was cresting his own peak, a few final, ragged thrusts as he spilled hot inside Thor. 

Thor’s head was swimming. He felt just conscious enough to pull Loki down against him, uncaring of the mess between them, just wanting to feel him. Feel Loki’s still-hard cock pulsing inside his body, feel the sweat of his skin and the comforting weight of him. Thor enveloped him with languid limbs, and Loki just let out a long sigh, dropping his head to Thor’s tattooed chest as Thor’s heavy arm lolled over his back.

They lay like that for some time, the only sounds being that of their breathing and the low answering breath of the fire. It could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes, but eventually Loki lifted his head and Thor cracked open his eyes. They looked at each other in the soft, low light, not speaking.

Thor couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to count the yellow flecks in Loki’s warm green eyes. Couldn’t recall the last time he’d been close enough, had time enough to register the little scar above Loki’s lip, the faintest of freckles scattered across his cheekbones— the remnants of his recent summer in Vanaheim.

Yet again, Thor felt his heart swelling near to bursting, and he wrangled his limbs to hold Loki closer, feeling Loki’s softened cock slip free from him. He pulled Loki up closer and Loki, pliant, let himself be manhandled until Thor could press a kiss to his hair, and then he felt something wet slide down his cheek towards his ear.

He was weeping again, Thor realized. Some terrible weight had lifted and now he could feel that the thing it had been pinning down was surging to break free— this desire that had been trapped within him for longer than he could remember, this love that he could not have even hoped to name. A sob burst from his chest, and Loki just held him tight, nuzzling closer. He let Thor have a few good full-body heaves, then brought his face up to kiss at Thor’s jaw, wetting his lips with Thor’s tears. 

“We have all the time in the world,” he murmured softly into Thor’s cheek, which only brought a fresh wave of tears to Thor’s eyes and he cried like a boy, holding tight onto Loki, tangling his hand in Loki’s hair and squeezing around his back as he gasped for air, wracked with an unbearable sadness he didn’t fully understand. And then that terrible moment passed, and Thor again felt joy and relief, and such great love that he did not think he could possibly contain it within him.

He managed to collect himself after a few more moments, his breath slowing and evening out once more.

Loki kissed him with gentleness, but not pity— never pity— and Thor kissed him back. He didn’t know what to say. There didn’t seem to be any need. Loki sat up just enough to look at him, and those eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Thor felt drained in every way, emptied of so many things— but now it seemed that maybe he was just making room for something new. Thor smiled, his lashes stuck together. “You know, come to think of it… I don’t recall the bits about me begging you for your cock being part of the script, either,” he joked, voice still thick with emotion. 

Loki just snorted and grinned at him fondly, eyes bright with what might be his own unshed tears. “Well… it’s not every day I get to make a man out of my brother. I had to improvise.”

Thor gave a genuine laugh in answer, just shaking his head. “You wonder. You absolute wonder.” 

Loki flushed at the praise, leaned in to kiss him once more. Thor met his tongue softly, and when they drew apart once more, he murmured, “Come with me. Be my travel companion these nine years away.” Now that he had tasted this, he did not think he could bear the next decade without Loki at his side. There was so much he wanted to do...

Loki nuzzled his nose with his own. He hesitated and Thor thought he might speak of their duties and responsibilities, but then he said, “I… suppose I could find a way.” He glanced down and with a small flick of his fingers, cleaned them of the worst of the mess, seemingly oblivious to the reaction he’d just set off within Thor. He went to sit up, but Thor caught his arm.

“I am yours, Loki.” He said, and did not take it lightly. It was no longer spoken in the heat of the moment; he wanted Loki to see he meant it. And still it was brash, maybe, and impetuous— for there were myriad complications waiting in the wings— but it was the truth and there was nothing else for it. “I want none other by my side. I would not have you parted from me. Will not.”

Loki searched his face, perhaps looking for any shade of uncertainty, any trace of insincerity but Thor did not yield. Loki’s gaze seemed pulled down to Thor’s chest, at the marks that would forever bear his unseen hand, and Thor’s heart swelled again when Loki reached out and traced the lines with slow, reverent fingers. 

“All right,” he finally said, meeting Thor’s eyes as he settled back down, curling in against Thor’s side. “Then let us be bound together.”

“We already are,” Thor murmured, turning to him, taking Loki’s hand and bringing it back to his chest, covering it with his own. “I’m not a complete fool… I saw my spá. I know whose thread weaves strongest with mine.” He interlocked his fingers with Loki’s and relished how Loki looked at him. “Whatever anyone may think, it is not Odin’s protection I first and foremost bear over my heart— I know it is yours.”

Loki’s eyes were alight and warm, satisfied with that answer. For once, Thor thought gladly, he looked truly at peace. 

Then his brother’s lips curled into a secretive, teasing smile.

“Just as well, for that is not merely Odin’s shield you bear on your chest. When next you pass a mirror, you’ll see. I may have taken a little creative license in a few places...”

“Oh?” Thor asked, pulling him closer, playing dumb. In truth he hadn’t yet noticed, but this revelation filled him not with anger or caution, but with unimaginable warmth. “If not his sigil, then whose?”

Loki just smiled fondly. 

“Ours, of course.”

xx

**Author's Note:**

> The title and the quote at the beginning are from the song “Deeper” by Wild Beasts.
> 
> Glossary:
> 
>  _Ægishjálmr_ — The Helm of Awe. A magical stave often associated with Odin, intended to lend protection to the bearer— usually a warrior— and strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. It is intended to be worn on the brow/helmet and is sometimes painted on shields, but generally not painted or tattooed on the chest. I’m breaking all the rules here.
> 
>  _Galdralag_ — An Old Norse poetic meter used for describing magic chants (galdr), as seen in _Hávamál_ when Odin is listing a series of eighteen spells he knows. In my mind, when Loki is casting galdr, he’s chanting in galdralag.


End file.
